


love me dead

by priorwalter



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priorwalter/pseuds/priorwalter
Summary: If the general populace was aware of vampires’ existence, Illumi would surely be the first to be burnt at the stake, he thought as he prowled the club for an unsuspecting victim. His appearance was just a little too on the nose; long black hair and dark, inhuman eyes. His skin was pale, figure delicate; he moved like a ghost. He dressed the part, too. His wardrobe was in grayscale, filled with black leather and snow-white silk and glittering silver chains.He raked his gaze over the dark, pulsing room until someone caught his eye: a tall redhead, all by his lonesome. A loose crop top hung off of his muscled torso and gold jewelry dripped like honey from his ears. He looked twenty one or twenty two at the oldest.Seemingly out of nowhere, his gaze fell on Illumi, golden eyes gleaming. He smiled: a blood-red, toothy thing splitting his porcelain face in two.-Illumi Zoldyck is a centuries-old vampire of the revered Zoldyck clan. Hisoka is a human desperate to preserve his youthful virility, or so he says. True-ish love ensues.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	love me dead

**Author's Note:**

> i am so happy that this is finally finished LMAO. a note: the vampire lore in this fic is a haphazard amalgamation of all the vampire shit i've read. don't think about it too hard. trigger warning for blood. title is stolen from the song of the same name by ludo. not edited because i'm very lazy!
> 
> enjoy!

Heaven’s Arena was dark and hazy; smoke wafted through the air, muffling the little light in the room and lending the place a sense of unreality. The nightclub was familiar, if slightly unpleasant; Illumi was a regular, though not for the reasons one might think. He hadn’t chosen Heaven’s Arena because he enjoyed the atmosphere or the location. No, he had chosen it because the owners played fast and loose with the law and it was hard to spot blood on black walls. 

It was Illumi’s favourite place to feed. The most obvious advantage was that it created easy prey. Humans often came alone, and those that didn’t were eager to leave their friends in Illumi’s hands if he pretended to be interested in sucking them off rather than draining their blood. Still, vulnerable humans were everywhere if you knew where to look; Illumi preferred Heaven’s Arena for less practical reasons. He felt at home in the club; it was dark and anonymous and almost no one was lucid enough to bother him. The music reverberated through his chest and shook his bones. He could get lost there in a way that was impossible in his everyday life. 

Choosing a target was simple enough; find someone who was alone and wouldn’t create a fuss when he sequestered them off to a dark corner. Almost no one made a scene if Illumi dragged them off under the guise of sex, though he rarely let them live for that long. He knew what he looked like and he used it to his advantage. 

If the general populace was aware of vampires’ existence, Illumi would surely be the first to be burnt at the stake. His appearance was just a little too on the nose; long black hair and dark, inhuman eyes. His skin was pale, figure delicate; he moved like a ghost. He dressed the part, too. His wardrobe was in grayscale, filled with black leather and snow-white silk and glittering silver chains. No matter where he was, he attracted attention, though in his everyday life it was rather less positive. In Heaven’s Arena, though, he was the star around which the club orbited. Anonymous eyes with blown-out pupils roved down his body, following him through the crowd as he searched for an unsuspecting victim. 

He raked his gaze over the dark, pulsing room until someone caught his eye: a tall redhead, all by his lonesome. A loose crop top hung off of his muscled torso and gold jewelry dripped like honey from his ears. He looked twenty one or twenty two at the oldest. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, his gaze fell on Illumi, golden eyes gleaming. He smiled: a blood-red, toothy thing splitting his porcelain face in two. 

Illumi wove through the crowd, feeling the bass of the music echoing through his chest. The man was still staring. Now that he was closer, Illumi saw the way sweat gathered at his brow and red flyaways stuck out of his styled hair. Imperfection was a human trait; usually, Illumi found it detestable, but on this man, it was attractive.

“Hello,” the man said, and it was less of a word and more of a purr, like a very pleased cat. “I noticed you watching me. And I noticed everyone else watching you.” He wrapped a broad hand around Illumi’s corseted waist. They would have been around the same height if Illumi’s boots weren’t so tall.

“I hate your hair,” Illumi said, wrinkling his nose.

He grinned, almost like a predator. How ironic. Illumi would have laughed if he were inclined to that sort of thing. “I’m Hisoka.”

Illumi did not respond; he didn’t need to. They danced, and once again Illumi was reminded why he liked places like Heaven’s Arena so much. He felt like he was in a bubble, completely separated from the world outside. Here, there were no consequences. Hisoka was pressed against his ass, and he smelled so heavenly it was all Illumi could do to hold back from forcibly dragging him to the back of the room and tearing his throat open. 

Maybe Hisoka would like it; that happened, sometimes. He seemed like the type. 

“They always leave the door to the storage room in the back open,” Hisoka said in his ear, half-shouting to be heard over the bass-boosted music. “Let’s go.” It was a bad idea, objectively; still, the way Hisoka’s hand felt on him clouded his judgement.

It was much quieter behind the closed door. Illumi let Hisoka push him against a shelf; something glass clanked behind him. Hisoka sunk to his knees, but Illumi pulled him back up. He pressed a trail of wet kisses up the column of Hisoka’s throat, savouring the scent of his blood. It would have been nice to fuck him, probably, but Illumi was too desperate to care; with almost no forethought, he sunk his fangs into the base of Hisoka’s neck. 

It was better than he could have imagined. Hisoka seemed to have trace amounts of magical blood in him. It happened, sometimes, with humans. A distant ancestor was a vampire or a faerie or a banshee, back from when monsters and humans mingled. Hisoka moaned, and Illumi felt the vibration in his teeth. He ground against Illumi, not protesting as Illumi flipped their positions and shoved Hisoka against the wall. 

Something was off. 

“Don’t — don’t stop,” Hisoka gasped, blood dripping down his throat. His lipstick was all over his face and he grinned like he was drunk, even though Illumi couldn’t smell any alcohol on his breath. “Don’t I taste good?”

“You anticipated this,” Illumi said. “You knew I was going to be here.”

“I’d heard rumours about people going missing in Heaven’s Arena,” Hisoka said. He wiped some of the blood from his throat with his hand and licked it off his fingers with a sleazy grin. “I thought I’d check it out.”

Illumi dragged his nail down Hisoka’s cheek, leaving a clean, straight cut. “Do you have a death wish?” 

Hisoka turned his face and took Illumi’s fingers into his mouth, seemingly indifferent to how Illumi was holding him down. Illumi pulled his hand away, glaring. “Though I can’t exactly argue, I don’t have a death wish in the way you’re thinking.”

“You want to be turned.” 

Zoldycks didn’t turn people. No ordinary human deserved to be turned by a member of the Zoldyck family, one of the oldest and most respected vampire clans in the world. 

Hisoka grinned. “Perceptive. I’d like to preserve my youthful complexion and boundless virility.” 

“No. I will kill you.” 

His smile widened, somehow; it was unsettling. “No, you won’t.”

“And why is that?”

“You should really put a password on your phone.” 

Illumi felt time slow to a stop. Hisoka took advantage of his shock and waltzed out of his iron grip, brandishing Illumi’s phone like a weapon. “I’ve already sent all of your information to one of my — let’s call him an associate. He has connections with some rather large news outlets. I know vampires are social creatures, despite popular belief. You must have a family of some sort. You’re not as observant when there’s a hand on your—”

“Shut up,” Illumi said. He felt the ends of his hair begin to float; the air around them was tinted slightly purple. “I will kill you.” 

Hisoka was entirely unfazed by Illumi’s terrifying display. He only laughed, deep and loud. “No one will ever see it if you let me live.” 

Illumi felt himself calm, only slightly. “Not if I turn you?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Hisoka asked. Before Illumi could completely relax, though, he added, “I’ll convince you to do it of your own free will.” 

“You will never,” Illumi said. “You don’t know who I am. You are not worthy.”

Whatever Illumi had been expecting, it wasn’t this: Hisoka wiping the blood off of the cut on his cheek forcibly shoving his scarlet-stained fingers in Illumi’s mouth. With his remaining hand, he tucked a strand of hair behind Illumi’s hair and then cupped his cheek. Illumi could have stopped this; his reflexes were far greater than those of a human. Still, something about the confidence with which Hisoka spoke caught his interest; a rare and fleeting thing. 

“I do know who you are, Illumi. I’ll see you soon.”

Illumi stood, dumbfounded, as Hisoka tossed him his phone and flounced out of the room, throat still dripping obscenely.

As soon as he gathered his wits, Illumi called his father. This wasn’t the first time a situation like this had arisen. Humans were curious and the Zoldycks were notorious; still, it was best to be cautious. His parents would be upset if he hid this from them, and something about Hisoka seemed dangerous. 

* * *

There was almost nothing that Illumi missed about the past. It was useless to dwell on years gone when you were immortal. He had lived through nearly five centuries, and he much preferred the technological age to the dreadful Elizabethan era. One thing that he ached for, though, was stars; the artificial light blocked out galaxies and constellations that Illumi used to see nightly.

That was why he frequented one of the less expensive restaurants in Yorkshin; he didn’t enjoy how crowded it was or the caliber of customer it attracted, but it had rooftop seating that reminded Illumi of sitting beneath the open sky in centuries past. He found it peaceful; the noise of the city faded into the background beneath the canopy of light pollution. 

Or, it would have been peaceful if not for the golden-eyed clown that slipped into the seat across from Illumi. 

“Good evening, Hisoka.”

It had been just over three years since their encounter in Heaven’s Arena. Illumi had moved across the country, which is why it was so shocking to find Hisoka here in Yorkshin. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised; he had always expected to run into him eventually. 

“Illumi.” Hisoka was wearing an amount of jewelry just as absurd as the first time they met, though his clothing was more presentable. His hair was a subtler colour now, closer to a dark cherry red rather than the bright firetruck hue from before. He looked older, though that was normal for humans, he supposed. 

The silence stretched on, Hisoka staring with his terrible grin all the while. Finally, Illumi cocked his head. “What brings you to Yorkshin, Hisoka?”

“I was in the area and I saw you. I thought we could have dinner. You haven’t ordered yet, have you?”

His utter lack of apprehension was commendable. Very few humans survived after learning Illumi’s true nature, and those that did were sure to never cross his path again. Hisoka was an exception, apparently. “I suppose I can’t stop you.” 

After ordering, Hisoka put his elbows up on the table and propped his head in his hands. “So, Illumi. Tell me about yourself.” 

“I have no interest in divulging any details to you,” Illumi said. “Especially if I receive no recompense.” Hisoka was an interesting human, but a human all the same. 

He hummed, swishing his glass of wine. “Recompense, hm? What about a game?”

“A game? We are not children.” He glanced at Hisoka’s hair and frowned. “Well, I am not. I can’t speak for you.”

“A truth for a truth,” Hisoka explained, barrelling on as if Illumi hadn’t spoken. “I’ll ask you a question, and you can either ignore it or answer it and ask me a question of equal value. If you don’t want to answer, I’ll ask something else.” 

Illumi narrowed his eyes. “How can I trust you to tell the truth?”

Hisoka grinned and licked his lips. “You can’t. I have no way of trusting you, either, so we’re standing on even ground, Illu.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Illumi looked out at the smudgy sky behind Hisoka, wondering how he ended up where he was. “I accept your game.”

Hisoka tapped his chin, feigning deep thought. He balanced his chin on his hand and smiled. “Does drinking blood turn you on?” 

“I am not answering that.” 

“You’re such a prude.” He ran a hand through his hair; it looked impossibly soft. “Old people are so conservative.” 

It occurred to Illumi that he could simply kill Hisoka, though he had no way of knowing if Hisoka still had information on him. “I am not old.”

“How old are you?”

“Is that your question?” 

Hisoka nodded.

“I am four hundred and ninety,” Illumi said. “Though I stopped aging four hundred and sixty four years ago.” 

“So you’re twenty six.” 

Illumi frowned. “No. I am four hundred and ninety.” 

“I’m twenty three,” Hisoka continued on, ignoring Illumi completely. “You look older than twenty six, you know. You have terrible dark circles.”

“Why do you want to be turned?” Illumi asked. He didn’t care for Hisoka’s drivelling. 

Hisoka looked around the room furtively before cupping one hand around his mouth, like he was telling Illumi a great secret. “I’m bored. I think it would be interesting.”

“You are a fool,” Illumi said. “Humans have no concept of immortality. You’re bored now; you think that living for another century with an unchanging body is exciting?” Humans were infatuated with the idea of vampirism, but Illumi thought that very few of them could handle the reality of their existence. Hisoka would be no different, surely. 

He reached across the table and placed his hand on Illumi’s. “I’m sure I could occupy myself somehow.” He ran his tongue over his top row of teeth, strangely sharp for a human.

Illumi pulled his hand away. “Are you going to ask your second question, or are you going to gawk at me all night? I have better things to do.” 

“You’re so formal, Illumi. It’s irritating, but I guess I can’t fault you for being ancient.” He cast his eyes up at the sky, deep in thought. Before long, he was looking at his long, pink nails, inspecting them for imperfections as he bit his lips. 

He clearly knew what he wanted to ask. He just wanted to make Illumi wait. “I will leave, Hisoka.”

Hisoka dropped his hands onto the table and sighed. “You’d think that immortals would be more patient, not less. Fine. I want to know… oh, I know. Why do you dress like such a whore?”

A few hundred years ago, Illumi might have blushed. Now, though, he was hardly surprised. It was far from the first time he’d been asked something to this effect. “Humans are easy prey when they’re aroused.” He focused his blank stare on Hisoka, aiming for unsettling but most likely landing somewhere closer to trying-too-hard. “Besides, I enjoy it.”

It was true, but more importantly, it was what Hisoka wanted to hear. He would take it as confirmation of his preconceived beliefs based on Illumi’s appearance. It was likely that Hisoka had some knowledge of vampires. Assuming that was true, he would know that they were discouraged from standing out from the crowd. Subtlety was survival, or that’s what Illumi was taught. The Zoldycks were careful to keep up with the ever-changing times; though they lived separately from humans, it was important to understand their society in order to blend in. Illumi was often considered strange by his kind for going against the grain the way he did, and that is the implication Hisoka would take away from it: Illumi was a rebel. He wasn’t; the simple truth of the matter was that Illumi spent more time among humans than most, and he knew that it took much more than wearing leather harnesses to reveal the eons-old secret of vampirism. 

“I believe it’s your turn to ask me a question,” Hisoka said. “Unless you’ve forgotten; how long does it take for Alzheimer’s to kick in, again?”

This question was easy. “How did you learn about us?” 

Hisoka fiddled with his ring. It was a show of nervousness, but Illumi doubted it was genuine. “I grew up in foster care, and I ran away to a travelling circus when I was twelve or thirteen. A few years in, I saw the tightrope walker get cut open like a pig and drained dry.” He tilted his head. “I was in the rafters, so I didn’t get caught. I’ve thought about it since.” Something looked wrong with his face as he told the story; something was off.

“You don’t need to pretend to be sad about it,” Illumi said. “I am not shy about blood.” 

Hisoka laughed, and it was a nice laugh: deep and loud and long. “I like you.” 

“I don’t care about you enough to hold an opinion,” Illumi responded. “I don’t believe that you grew up in a circus.”

“Too on the nose?” Hisoka grinned. “That reminds me of someone I know, long black hair and huge eyes, likes to show off his tits—”

“We are not comparable.” 

It was at that moment that the waiter arrived with their food. Illumi didn’t particularly enjoy human food. It neither hurt nor harmed him, but after a few hundred years, a diet of exclusively blood began to get boring. He took the opportunity to watch Hisoka. 

He clearly knew more than he let on. His questions were personal and irrelevant, which meant he had another source of information. This wasn’t at all surprising; his species’ relied far too much on being unknown. Once you learned of vampires, they were easy to spot. 

“I have one more question,” Hisoka said. He took a sip of his wine and savoured it in his mouth for a moment. He swallowed, and Illumi watched his throat bob. “Why is the eldest Zoldyck son wasting time in seedy clubs?”

It was uncomfortable that Hisoka knew so much about Illumi while Illumi knew almost nothing of him. “You don’t know what I do with my time.” Assassination was the family business, and Illumi took care of contracts on the east side of the continent. “I am not dawdling. You only find me at the most inopportune moments.”

“I suppose I should have expected that.” Still, Hisoka didn’t look miffed. He had to have had a goal; there was something here Illumi was missing.

“What was the purpose of tonight?” Illumi asked. He tapped his nails on the metal table, scrutinizing the man sitting opposite him.

“I wanted to see you do that thing with your face,” Hisoka said, far too readily. “In Heaven’s Arena you were pouting when you told me you didn’t like my hair. I wanted to see if I could make you do it again.” 

“You found me here to see me make a face.” He wondered if his father would care if he massacred the entire restaurant. “You are the worst human.” 

Hisoka grinned. “And here I was, hoping for a second date, Illu. Also, I didn’t come here looking for you, pinky promise. I saw you on the street and followed you into the restaurant. It was a happy accident.”

“Do not call me that.” Illumi stood up. “I am leaving now. You are paying.”

“Not even a kiss goodbye?”

“You are lucky to be alive.”

* * *

Silva liked to tell Illumi that he revelled in killing just a touch too much for a Zoldyck. If Illumi were inclined to argue with his father, he might point out that he was a violent murderer both by nature and by nurture. Still, he couldn’t disagree. It’s what made Illumi such an excellent assassin; it was also one of the many things that made him unfit for the title of heir to the Zoldycks. 

Little Killua was the heir of choice. He had Silva’s fluffy white hair and his eyes were Zoldyck blue; he toddled around the manor awkwardly like a giraffe walking on its unsteady legs for the first time. Illumi loved him very much. He was so delicate it was frightening; human blood ran through his veins.

Kikyo Zoldyck, the matriarch of the family, was a human, though she had lived for much longer than a human had any right to. Illumi didn’t particularly like her, partially because she was human and partially because of her unfortunate personality. She lived off of old wives’ tales; unicorn blood and dragon scales and fountains of youth. Of course, there were no more unicorns or dragons or magical fountains; Silva had made sure that no human would ever unlock the secrets of immortality again. No human but Kikyo Zoldyck, so that every century or two, they could rear a new child. Illumi had been the first, followed by Milluki and now Killua.

It seemed pointless to Illumi. His parents took great lengths to live apart from humans, yet they wanted to raise children. Vampires were not born and raised; they were violently torn from their pesky human lives and changed into nightmare creatures without warning. It seemed almost more cruel to do it Silva’s way; to know from the moment of birth that a natural death will never come.

Still, Killua was too young to understand immortality. He only cared for his soft toys and playing with Illumi’s silky hair. 

“Master Illumi,” Amane said. “Young Master Killua requests your presence.” 

Illumi was discouraged from spending too much time with Killua outside of training. He understood his parents’ reasoning. If they were to prepare Killua for the life he was fated for, affection was out of the question. Unfortunately, Illumi found Killua’s cries of anguish too difficult to ignore. 

In the nursery, Killua’s big blue eyes were filled with tears. At two years old he hadn’t yet shaken the habit of crying. Illumi took him from the butler acting as nanny and balanced him on his hip. “Why are you crying, Kil?”

Killua did not answer. Instead, he tugged at the front of Illumi’s shirt as his little toddler lungs heaved with sobs. It was a women’s shirt; there was a horizontal slit in the chest presumably to show off cleavage. Killua pulled it down from the seam of the slit, further exposing Illumi’s bare chest. Illumi wondered if perhaps he should try to dress more modestly around the child. He hadn’t much cared for Milluki and was off travelling for most of his early childhood. It had seemed like a good decision at the time; now, though, he wasn’t sure what was appropriate for two year olds. 

In the end, he removed Killua’s hand from his shirt. In response, Killua wrapped his tiny hand around Illumi’s ring and pinky fingers; this interested the toddler enough for him to stop crying.

“Good,” Illumi said. “No more crying, or Mother will be very cross with you.” He dropped a kiss onto Killua’s fluffy hair. “We can keep today a secret, though.”

“Master Illumi?” Amane interrupted. Illumi whipped his head toward her, but before he could speak, she continued, “Master Silva is on his way. I thought you might… want to know.” 

Illumi nodded. With a pat to Killua's head, he passed his baby brother to Amane. Killua’s eyes once again began to water, but Illumi shook his head. “Remember what I told you, Kil?” 

Killua nodded, biting his lip. Illumi ruffled his hair and left, ignoring the twinge in his chest. He passed Silva on his way out, who nodded.

It would be a pity if Killua turned out like him or Milluki, Illumi thought to himself. With Milluki, his parents were too forgiving; he was a spoiled brat. Illumi had simply turned out wrong. He was far stronger than Milluki, but something had broken in him when he was a child. Or, that’s what Kikyo claimed; she liked to tell him that was why his eyes were black. 

Illumi couldn’t be certain of the truth of her words, but he knew that he wanted Killua’s eyes to stay blue. 

He navigated the familiar winding halls of the manor until he found his bedroom. He hadn’t stayed in his childhood room for many years; he was only returning for a few months to spend time with Killua. He didn’t particularly enjoy living with his parents. He found they were far more tolerable the farther Illumi was from them. 

“Hello, Illumi,” a voice said. A familiar voice. 

Illumi pinned the man against the wall and pressed a knife against his jugular. “How did you get here?” He thought of Killua just a minute away. Bloodlust filled the room and likely the area surrounding it. Illumi felt his hair float into a menacing cloud around him. “I will kill you.” 

“No, you won’t,” Hisoka said calmly. He craned his neck forward, the only part of his body he could move, causing the knife on his throat to draw blood. “I managed to get into your bedroom unnoticed. It would be so unfortunate if that sort of information were to get out, wouldn’t it?” He licked his lips. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hurt baby Killua.” 

Illumi slammed Hisoka onto the ground and stepped on his sternum, hard enough that he would struggle to breathe. He had no idea how Hisoka was still able to function. Usually, humans crumpled when they were exposed to bloodlust and malice as pure and hateful as Illumi’s. Hisoka only seemed amused. “Touch my brother and I will end the human race,” Illumi said, feigning cheer. “Starting with you, Hisoka. You are nothing and you always will be. Would you like to test me?” 

Hisoka’s face was starting to redden as his oxygen ran lower. “Don’t kill me and we won’t have a problem.”

“I will knock you out and bring you to the base of the mountain. When you wake up, you will leave and not come back.” Illumi stepped off of Hisoka’s chest and pulled him up. “Are we in agreement?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Hisoka looked around the room. “I anticipated this. If I don’t text a code to my contact every five minutes, so,” he paused to check the time on his phone, “two minutes from now, your secrets will be revealed to the world. Besides, I came here for a reason. You can’t get me to leave that easily.”

If word of Hisoka’s presence in the manor got to his family, Illumi would surely be blamed and he wasn’t in the mood to be punished by his parents. Even if Illumi managed to escape the spotlight, a human breaking into the manor would surely cause a major fuss he wasn’t prepared to deal with. At present, it seemed like there was no clean way to dispose of the man in his bedroom. He sighed. “Fine. But if you cause any trouble I will maim you and feed your pieces to the dog.” 

Hisoka grinned. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Illumi. How about a game, like last time?” 

Their game at the restaurant in Yorkshin had been just over a year ago, though it felt like much longer. “With the same terms?”

“No, that was too easy,” Hisoka said. “I’ll ask you a question, but if you don’t answer, you have to drink some of my blood. Also, I have the right to refuse any question you ask; you can punish me as you see fit, and you can keep asking questions until I answer.”

Whatever Illumi had expected, it was not this. “You are trying to punish me by feeding me?”

“Not particularly, no.” Hisoka smiled, impossibly wide, and licked his lips. “I’ll just have more fun if I get something out of it either way. This benefits both of us and you have the better deal on the whole, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.” 

Illumi thought back to their first meeting in Heaven’s Arena. Hisoka had begged him to keep going when Illumi stopped, like he enjoyed it. He was doing all of this for… sexual gratification? To play with Illumi? There was something else that was bothering him, too. “I assume you understand the process of turning.”

Hisoka nodded. “You’d have to drain every drop of my blood. Don’t worry, that’s not my goal here.” He winked. “Though if you’re willing I won’t decline.”

“I am not. I accept your terms. Ask your first question.”

Hisoka, like last time, made a show of thinking carefully. Illumi took this time to finally get a good look at him; his clothing was just as loud and obnoxious as their previous two meetings. The only change he’d made to his general aesthetic was that he was wearing much less jewelry, likely because the noise may have alerted others of his presence. He looked stronger; he had been strong before, but his shoulders were wider. His waist, comparatively, looked small enough to fit in Illumi’s hand. Not that he was thinking about it. 

“Tell me why you’re back in the family manor.” Hisoka, unexpectedly, threw open the door to Illumi’s walk-in closet as he spoke and began to rummage around. “Rumour has it you don’t like it here. Why now?”

“To train Killua,” Illumi answered, though he was certain Hisoka could have answered that particular question for himself. “Why do you want me to turn you, when it is clear you’ve been in contact with others who could?” 

“Everyone else begs me for my blood. They want to turn me, or kill me. It’s so boring. No one puts up a fight. No one except you.” Still searching through the closet, Hisoka paused before thrusting a pair of very tall boots in Illumi’s direction. They were dark and covered in straps and buckles and chains. “Look, you were wearing these when we first met. You wear too much black, you know, you should branch out. It would suit you.” 

“And dress like you?” Illumi sneered. Hisoka’s garish outfit was white and pink with gold trim; Illumi almost had to squint looking at it. 

Hisoka put on an exaggerated pout and dropped the shoes. “Are you saying I don’t look good? My heart is broken.” 

“That is exactly what I am saying.” 

“I don’t think I believe you, baby.” 

Illumi glared. “Don’t call me that, you—”

Hisoka crossed his arms. “Ah, ah, Illumi. My turn. I want to know why Killua’s the heir, not you. It’s usually the eldest, isn’t it?”

Whoever had given Hisoka information clearly didn’t know as much about the Zoldycks as Hisoka thought. “The head of the Zoldyck family has to have certain characteristics,” Illumi explained. “White hair, blue eyes, and a certain amount of strength.”

“Your parents don’t think you're strong?”

“Killua will be stronger,” Illumi replied. “And I am unfit to be heir.” 

Hisoka raised an eyebrow. “I think you have some self-worth issues.”

“You would prefer me to be a narcissist like you?”

“I would _prefer_ you—”

“It’s my turn for a question.” Illumi interrupted, not in the mood to deal with Hisoka’s antics. He clasped his hands behind his back and slowly stepped toward Hisoka until they were nose to nose. “Who told you how to get in here?”

The Zoldyck manor wasn’t impenetrable. They had lived in the same place for hundreds of years; its secrets were bound to get out one way or another. It was the Zoldycks’ job to make sure that when someone did find out how to get in, they were swiftly and painfully executed. One flaw in their defenses was that they were designed with dark creatures in mind; humans were only barely aware of their existence, let alone courageous enough to try and break in. Hisoka, apparently, was the exception. Still, the chances that he had no help in his plan were almost zero.

“Hmm,” Hisoka said. He took Illumi’s chin in his hand and tilted it this way and that, inspecting his face. “I don’t think I want to tell you. How are you going to pay me back?”

Illumi was well-versed in torture, but he somehow doubted it would bother Hisoka very much. Hisoka was interesting in that, in terms of physical strength, he was like an ant beneath Illumi’s shoe, but his sheer determination and self-serving attitude were enough to give him a leg up over all the other pathetic humans Illumi had ever met. There was also the question of why Hisoka suggested a ‘punishment’ dealt to him in the first place, and what information he was here for in the first place.

“I am very curious about how you got past Mike,” Illumi said, though he was not. Mike was a hellhound, and no magical creature was without weakness. It was not inconceivable that Hisoka found a way past him. If Hisoka thought that he was special and that he was in control of the situation, he might show his hand. “And it is impressive that you escaped Canary unscathed. You obviously had help with this and I am certain you paid for this help with the blood you’re so eager to give out. You are desperate for me to turn you; that much is clear.” He thought back to Hisoka’s words in the club, now four years ago. “As repayment for refusing to answer my question, you may not seek me out for another three years once you leave the premises today.”

Hisoka’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. “And why is that?”

Illumi crossed his arms. “You’re twenty four now; you’ll be twenty seven in three years’ time. Should you somehow convince me to turn you, which you will not, you’ll be older than me. Only in body, of course.” 

He was grinning now. His smile was unsettling. “And if we run into one another by accident?”

“We won’t.” 

“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” 

“I have reason to be.” He poked Hisoka in the chest, and with his inhuman strength it was enough to slam him into the soft wall of clothing behind him. “Don’t waste your time searching for me.” 

Hisoka let himself fall back into the mess of fabric, putting up no resistance. “You are impossible to predict.” He seemed gleeful about this particular fact.

“I get to ask you something else now,” Illumi reminded him. “Tell me why you won’t answer my last question.” 

“People who know how to get into the manor are almost always killed, and if you can’t kill me, you’ll kill the person who helped me get here.” He stood up and tapped Illumi on the nose. “I would like to see them alive for at minimum three more years.” 

Illumi shoved Hisoka’s hand away and frowned. “You want to meet them as a vampire. It’s someone you want to fight.”

“No more hints.”

“I dislike you.”

“Can we have sex?” 

Though Hisoka’s tree-trunk thighs were tempting, Illumi had to decline. “That was a request, not a question. It doesn’t count. Also, no.” 

Hisoka hummed. “I didn’t intend it as part of the game. I was just curious about what you’d say. I know you’re attracted to me. Most people are.”

“Are you going to ask me another question, or have you fulfilled whatever convoluted purpose you came here with?” He didn’t bother addressing Hisoka’s arrogance; he had most certainly been told many times and Illumi doubted one more jibe would change his ways. 

A dark look crossed Hisoka’s face, paired with a smug grin. He circled his arms around Illumi’s waist, slowly enough that Illumi could have shoved him away if he so wished; he did not. “My last question is this. How would one go about getting through Zoldyck security to kill a certain white-haired baby?” 

Illumi threw Hisoka so hard that the wall behind him turned to splinters. He picked him up by the collar like a ragdoll and shoved him against the side of the closet, pressing a forearm to his throat. 

“It was just a question, Illu,” Hisoka wheezed. One of his hands came to rest on the arm that was shoved against his windpipe. “You don’t have to answer.” 

It dawned on Illumi then that Hisoka had no intention of killing Killua; he only asked because he knew that Illumi would refuse. 

“Fuck you,” Illumi said. He didn’t often curse and the words felt like licking blood off of his teeth. “There is something wrong with you, Hisoka.”

Hisoka made an odd gurgling sound, sort of like Killua’s babbling. It probably would have been a laugh if Illumi weren’t halfway to starving his puny human lungs. “Are you forgetting something?” 

Illumi glared. Hisoka’s blood was particularly nice, he recalled, though he would never tell Hisoka that. “Fine.” He released his hold on Hisoka’s throat and pressed him against the wall with far less force; just enough to restrain his movements. 

Hisoka tilted his head, exposing his neck invitingly.

His blood was just as Illumi remembered, warm and sweet and slightly magical. Hisoka writhed under Illumi’s strong grip, making pathetic noises as Illumi drank his life away. 

Drinking blood was not erotic, no matter how some insolent humans reacted to it. Illumi supposed he could see the appeal in biting, but on his end it was rarely an exceptional experience. Still, something about the way Hisoka was so desperate for Illumi to take from him was interesting. Far more interesting was the way he was pawing desperately at Illumi’s chest, unable to reach any farther because of Illumi’s grip on him. 

Finally, Illumi pulled away and released him. Hisoka’s eyes were wide and dark and his chest seemed to be moving a touch faster than was normal, though that might have to do with Illumi nearly crushing his throat only a minute before. 

“I missed that,” Hisoka said, grinning. He rubbed his arms where Illumi had held them. It would surely bruise.

His delicate porcelain throat was so pretty stained with blood. The wound on his throat was still oozing blood. Illumi leaned in and licked it away, savouring the taste on his tongue. Hisoka moaned obscenely. He was almost certainly putting on a show to get on Illumi’s nerves, but it wasn’t working.

“Aren’t you going to ask another question?” Illumi asked.

Hisoka grabbed Illumi’s chin and rested the pad of his thumb on Illumi’s lower lip. “You have blood on your face. Are your table manners usually this terrible?”

“Take your hand off of me. Do you have another question, or are you done?” 

Instead of doing as Illumi said, Hisoka cupped Illumi’s cheek and leaned forward. 

Illumi, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, didn’t move away. 

Hisoka didn’t kiss him. He was, presumably, licking his blood off of Illumi’s face; it was uncomfortable how little Illumi minded.

“There,” Hisoka said, smug as ever. “No evidence.” 

Illumi kissed him.

It was less of a kiss and more of a mildly unpleasant clash of lips and teeth. Hisoka didn’t seem to care, even when Illumi shoved him rather violently back against the wall. His only reaction was to shove one of his thighs between Illumi’s, already panting. 

It would be a unwise to have sex with Hisoka. He had already indulged too much in his irritating antics; he might begin to think he had some sort of influence over Illumi. Besides, it wouldn’t do for Hisoka to be more attached to Illumi than he already was. Having sex with Hisoka was an unequivocally bad idea, and if Illumi had any sort of self-control, he would put an end to it.

* * *

Illumi stretched as he watched as Hisoka crawled out the window, relishing the pleasant ache in his limbs. Hisoka looked like a mess, hair sticking up and clothes torn half to shreds. It was a wonder the human had any energy left to leave; their species were so weak. 

It had been a bad idea to have sex with Hisoka. 

Eventually, Illumi had realized that the only reason Hisoka broke in was to see just how much he could push Illumi’s buttons. Clearly the answer was quite a lot. Still, Hisoka had agreed that they wouldn’t see one another for three years. Perhaps his obsession would fade by then, and Illumi could live in peace. 

* * *

Illumi unlocked the door to his apartment in Yorkshin, relieved to be back after the long airship home and the even longer mission. Particularly lengthy jobs were rarely enjoyable, especially when ‘lengthy’ meant two and a half years. Illumi had been deep undercover in the Azian continent; he was, unfortunately, the only one fit for the job thanks to his ability to manipulate his appearance.

He was glad it was over.

He had spent seven precious months with Killua before leaving. It would have been nice to return; Killua would be four, now, but their parents thought it best that Illumi get back on his feet before returning to the manor.

Illumi’s biology made sleep a preference rather than a necessity; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d indulged in it. He felt, though, that he deserved a few hours of rest after spending the better part of two years in the jungle. He dropped his bags on the floor by the door, but before he could take the first step to his bedroom, a familiar voice spoke.

“Hello, Illu,” Hisoka said, grinning. 

It spoke to Illumi’s exhaustion that he hadn’t noticed him before. Still, his tiredness did not dull his reflexes, and he had Hisoka pinned against the kitchen island instantly. 

“I am not in the mood,” he said darkly. “I suggest you leave promptly if you want your head to stay attached to you.” 

“You should practice your flirting,” Hisoka replied. “I just wanted to give you a warm welcome, baby, come on.” 

Illumi felt his conviction leave him. He was tired and his body ached from spending so many months with his body in someone else’s shape and he wanted nothing more than to lie down. With a sigh, he let Hisoka go and walked toward his bedroom. “I am going to sleep. Please be gone by the time I wake up.” 

When he woke, it was dark outside. Hisoka was, unfortunately, still there. He was lounging on Illumi’s sofa, watching some inane program on the TV. 

“I thought I told you to leave,” Illumi said. “Why are you still here?” 

“You didn’t say please.”

“I don’t need to beg you to get out of my home.” 

Hisoka turned around so his chin was propped up on the back of the couch, facing Illumi. He pouted. “Maybe I missed you.”

Illumi reached for his pins. “We barely know each other.” 

“You’re right. Maybe I just missed your cock.” Gracefully, Hisoka lifted himself over the back of the sofa. “Put your little needles away, darling, it’s not very nice to threaten a guest.”

Before Hisoka could blink, Illumi threw a cascade of pins in his direction. Hisoka ducked out of the way, but one caught on the edge of his shirt. “Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?” A fan of — playing cards? — appeared in his hand, infused with aura. “This shirt was expensive.”

Someone had taught him nen.

He wasn’t nearly as skilled as Illumi, who had centuries of experience, but he was certainly much better than a mere three years of training would usually suggest. 

Before Hisoka could launch his odd projectiles, Illumi, preternaturally quick, lunged at him. Hisoka tried to dodge, but his mortal reflexes weren’t nearly as fast as Illumi’s, who pinned him on the floor with ease. To Illumi’s surprise, Hisoka escaped from under his grip in an unexpected show of brute strength. Illumi wondered who trained him; it clearly wasn’t a human.

The fight was over quickly. No matter Hisoka’s inborn talent, his mortality meant he was no match for Illumi’s impenetrable wall of strength and agility. They’d blazed a trail of broken furniture from the kitchen to the far end of the living room, where Illumi had Hisoka pinned against the wall. Hisoka was purpling with bruises and his right arm was shattered. Somehow he didn’t seem fazed. 

“Would you look at that,” Hisoka said delicately, head lolling forward. “I’m bleeding.” 

Illumi pressed his forearm harder into Hisoka’s throat. “I am not playing your games tonight. I will throw you out the window.” It was doubtful Hisoka would survive the fall, especially given his current state; Illumi couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“But Illu, you’ve got me all riled up.” He licked his lips. “You made me wait, you know. It’s the least you could do to let me stay the night.” 

“You agreed to wait,” Illumi reminded him. He saw through Hisoka’s pitiful attempts at misdirection, but he couldn’t bring himself to put an end to it. Perhaps something was wrong with him. 

“For three years,” Hisoka spat with a pout. “You were in Azia for two months after the three years passed.” 

Illumi pressed the sharp tip of a pin against the underside of Hisoka’s chin. “I owe you nothing.”

“Maybe true. So why haven’t you killed me yet?” His voice was starting to weaken as Illumi continued to constrain his throat. “I have no tricks up my sleeve today, pinky promise. You’ve had ample opportunities to do it.” 

“Shut up,” Illumi hissed, though it was a valid question. Why hadn’t he killed Hisoka yet? He could snap his neck with ease, or stick a pin in his brain. It would be quick, easy, and painless: just the way Hisoka would hate. 

“Kill me, Illumi.” 

Illumi dropped the needle to the floor, feeling a sense of resignation overcome him. “You could have safety measures in place you aren’t telling me about. It’s unlike you to risk your life like this when you haven’t yet gotten what you wanted.” 

Hisoka grinned like a predator whose prey just walked into his trap. “I didn’t think I’d need it today. I trust you, baby.” 

It was tempting to kill him, certainly, and Illumi felt a rage that was thus far unique to situations that included Hisoka. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Is it because I’m the only one who pays attention to you? I’ve been watching your family, you know, and they’re a little intense with baby Killua. Almost no mention of you or — what’s his name, Milluki? — since you left. It’s a little sad—” 

Illumi removed his arm from Hisoka’s neck and, with a shiny, manicured nail, slit his throat. 

Not deeply enough to kill him, unfortunately, but enough that it didn’t take very much effort to lap the blood dripping from his throat like a glittering ruby necklace.

It had been three years and two months since they last saw one another, but Hisoka’s touch felt somehow familiar. An alarm was blaring somewhere in the back of his mind telling him to put an end to this pointless tryst, but Illumi ignored it. 

It couldn’t hurt, right?

* * *

Their meetings became more frequent and involved less talking. Illumi preferred it this way. Hisoka was under his skin whether he liked it or not; at least this way he was making the system work for him. 

The unfortunate situation came to a head on a dreary Thursday afternoon, just eight months after Illumi’s return from Azia. Silva had business with the leader of the Phantom Troupe, Chrollo Lucilfer, and he had chosen Illumi to be his ambassador, finding the meeting too trivial to do it himself.

Usually, Illumi would speak to his father before any kind of diplomatic rendezvous. This kind of preparation usually wasn’t necessary, but while Illumi was a capable assassin, his skills as an emissary were lacking. He was unfailingly polite, but he wasn’t as adept with social cues as his father desired. Luckily, though, Silva was off on a job; it wasn’t that Illumi minded the briefings. He just didn’t particularly enjoy having his clothing criticized by his parents when he hadn’t lived with them for centuries.

Chrollo had warned him that they wouldn’t be alone; anything appropriate for Chrollo’s ears would be heard by the rest of his gang. This struck Illumi as rather unprofessional but Chrollo was an unorthodox leader. He was a ruthless murderer but cared deeply for the members of the Troupe. It was similar to the Zoldycks, he supposed, but unlike the Zoldycks there were no family ties to hold the Troupe together. They simply chose to attach themselves to others. It was foreign to Illumi.

There was no door to the building they met in; it appeared to be an abandoned church. There were no more pews, only rotting wood floors. Rain beat in through the broken stained-glass windows. Sat atop the unaltered stone altar was Chrollo, nose buried in a book.

Something wasn’t right.

The Troupe regarded Illumi with suspicion. It was only natural: the Phantom Troupe was a name almost as notorious as the Zoldyck family. Still, they had thus far avoided any bad blood. Illumi hoped that this meeting would not change that, but he had a bad feeling. Something was wrong. There was a familiar aura in the room, but he couldn’t place it when it was mostly drowned out by Chrollo’s.

“You should’ve told me who we were meeting with,” Hisoka said, emerging from a shadowy alcove. “I’d have washed my hair.” He was dressed in his typical clown costume, face painted in obscene colours. There was a yellow star one one of his cheeks and a pink teardrop on the other. It looked terrible.

Instinctively Illumi dropped into a combative stance. “What are you doing here, Hisoka.” It was a question, but it wasn’t phrased as such; his usually expressive voice had flattened to an unsettling monotone. The rest of the Troupe immediately reacted, pulling out their weapons, but Chrollo raised a pacifying hand. 

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, now.” 

The others reacted with absolute obedience, relaxing at their leader’s command; it made Illumi uncomfortable that Chrollo had that kind of power over so many individually impressive people. Though he was confident in his family’s abilities if they incurred the Troupe’s wrath, it was a situation he’d like to avoid. 

“If Hisoka stays I will leave,” Illumi said simply. 

“I told you that the Troupe would be here and you agreed,” Chrollo pointed out. 

Illumi took a deep breath, quelling the anger that was quickly building in his chest. “The situation has changed.” He looked at Hisoka and back to Chrollo. “I do not understand why you would add a human to your ranks. He is no match for any of you.”

“He killed the previous number four, so he is a rightful member of the Troupe,” Chrollo explained patiently. “If I had known that this would present a problem, I wouldn’t have put you in this situation. I’m sorry, Illumi.” He sounded genuine in his apology; it was uncomfortable. 

Illumi wondered how Hisoka had managed to kill a member of the Troupe. Thus far, they had only recruited vampires. It would have taken considerable strength for Hisoka to overpower an immortal, the kind of strength that generally wasn’t possible in humans. 

“However,” Chrollo continued, “he is a member of the Troupe, and I can’t exclude him because of your involvement with him. He is free to leave, should he choose, but I won’t ask him to.” 

This presented a problem. It would be unwise to give Hisoka any inkling of Illumi’s professional life; they were already entangled enough. However, Illumi couldn’t avoid this meeting. Silva would ask questions that Illumi would prefer not to answer.

“You gave Hisoka information on how to get into my home nearly four years ago,” Illumi said. Now that it was clear that Chrollo was the one acting as Hisoka’s informant, Illumi wondered how he hadn’t guessed it before. “I don’t have reason to trust either of you. Any of you, really. I will ask that he leaves.” 

Chrollo closed his book with a snap and put it on the altar beside him. “Hisoka succeeded in getting into the manor, and yet there was no word of a break-in. No security measures were changed. Almost as if the head of household didn’t find out.” His eyes narrowed. “If your issue with Hisoka is personal, I ask that you put it aside. Very few of us like him either, and he is still here.” 

That seemed like their issue rather than Illumi’s, but it wouldn’t help to point that out. “Fine,” he bit out. “Though don’t make a scene if your number four turns up dead tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Illu, you flatter me,” Hisoka said. “I’m so glad to see you.” 

Chrollo cast a dark glare on Hisoka. “Don’t.” Hisoka only laughed. “What business do you have with the Troupe, Illumi? It’s rather unusual for the Zoldycks to outsource.” 

“We do not require your aid,” Illumi explained. “There is an underground auction coming up in Glam Gas Land, as I’m sure you know. My father requests that you don’t interfere with the auction. You will be paid double what you would earn by ransacking it.”

“I see no issue,” Chrollo said, “but I will put it up to a vote.” 

That was the issue with the Phantom Troupe; they weren’t only interested in business. They took pleasure from killing and thieving; it was half the fun. It made them hard to predict. 

The Troupe broke into an argument immediately. Illumi couldn’t make out any one voice through the shouting, but Chrollo quickly silenced them. “One at a time. Start at my left.” 

“Take the deal,” said a pink-haired woman, presumably Machi according to Illumi’s research. “All of our cuts are doubled without the effort.” 

“We’re the Phantom Troupe,” a wiry man in a ponytail spat. “I won’t take Zoldyck hush money. I vote no.” 

“I agree with Nobunaga,” said Shalnark. “It would be more fun to go to the auction.” 

“I’m with Machi,” said a short person whose face was covered by their hair. Kortopi. “We’ll get more out of it.”

Pakunoda nodded. “It would be prudent to take the money. We’re all better off for it.” 

“I don’t see why we should take money from them. I vote no.” This came from a woman with choppy black hair and glasses that covered half of her face. 

A short man wearing a cowl shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was a raspy monotone. “I vote we go to the auction.” 

“Me too,” the taller man at his side said. _Phinks,_ Illumi’s mind supplied. “I’m not taking shit from this guy.” He pointed his thumb at Illumi. 

“I vote we take the money,” a bandaged man offered. “More profit.” 

A frankly giant person with hanging earlobes simply pointed at the bandaged man and nodded, indicating his agreement. 

“That’s five votes yes and five no,” Chrollo said. “Hisoka?” 

This was the moment Illumi had been dreading; Hisoka was the tiebreaker. He put his hands on his hips. “Hm. Big decision, ladies. This is a lot of pressure.” Illumi was reminded of their second meeting, more than four years ago now. When it was his turn to ask questions, he would drag it out to tease Illumi. It seemed that he hadn’t changed.

“I would prefer if we didn’t drag this out,” Illumi said, though he wouldn’t have minded had it been anyone but Hisoka. “What is the verdict?” 

“If I said no, it would get you in trouble with your father,” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “And robbing the auction blind would be fun. But if I said yes, you would owe me.” 

Illumi fought back the urge to sigh. “If you try anything I will kill you.” 

“You’ve never been able to before,” Hisoka pointed out. A sleazy grin spread across his face and he walked toward Illumi, kicking up dust and grime from the ancient building in his wake. Soon, he was nose-to-nose with Illumi. If it had been anyone else, they would already be dead. Hisoka grabbed Illumi’s choker and pulled his face forward before raising his voice and calling out, “We’ll go to the auction.”

Illumi struck out, throwing Hisoka to the ground with such force that several audible cracks sounded through the echoey church. No one moved to help him, a testament to how widely disliked he was, so Illumi approached his prone body and set a heeled boot on Hisoka’s chest. “You are becoming more trouble than you are worth. Show your face around me again and I will kill you.” He crouched down and wretched Hisoka’s head up by his hair so they were eye-to-eye. “I won’t even make it hurt. You will simply be dead.” 

With that, Illumi stood up and looked to Chrollo. “If your answer is no, then I have no more business here. I will take my leave.” 

Chrollo nodded. “It was nice to see you, Illumi.” 

“Forgive me if I can’t say the same.” 

The last thing Illumi heard as he left the church was Hisoka’s laughter. 

* * *

The job was simple, one Illumi had completed a hundred times before. A reporter was interfering with Illumi’s client’s campaign, so Illumi was paid to kill her and make it look like an accident.

What he didn’t expect was to find Hisoka, wearing only loose pajama pants, in the kitchen of the reporter’s apartment. He looked to be making pancakes, but Illumi didn’t bother to check when he shot a spray of needles in his direction. Most of them missed, but one grazed his cheek and another lodged deep in his shoulder, rendering his left arm immobile. Illumi launched himself over the kitchen island but Hisoka dove out of the way at the last second. His irritating cards seemed to appear out of nowhere, but Illumi was too fast for him. 

A woman’s voice interrupted them. Illumi froze. “What’s going on, Hisoka?” she asked.

In a lapse in judgement, the kind of which hadn’t happened since he was a child, he had been distracted from his target. For an instant, no one in the room moved. The woman was dressed in only an oversized t-shirt and her throat was littered in red marks, which explained under what guise Hisoka got into her apartment. 

The client had asked him to make it look like an accident. With Hisoka in the room, that might be impossible. He had to subdue the woman before Hisoka could do any visible damage or she could call the police, incapacitate Hisoka, and then finish his job. It shouldn’t be hard since one of Hisoka’s arms was already out of commission. 

“You’re about to be killed, dear,” Hisoka explained cheerfully to the woman, whose dark eyes widened in fear. Illumi was much faster than Hisoka, but Hisoka was closer. He got to her first, but Illumi shoved her out of the way at the last moment before Hisoka’s cards could slit her throat. She landed hard on the ground, screaming. That wouldn’t do. 

She didn’t appear to have a phone on her. If Illumi barricaded her in the bathroom while he took care of Hisoka, she would have no way of causing any trouble, but he doubted Hisoka would like that. Still, Hisoka was only human. 

“Come on,” Hisoka said, opening his arms invitingly. “You said you would kill me if you ever saw me again. I’m waiting, Illu.” 

Illumi launched a barrage of pins in his direction before throwing the woman over his shoulder. Hisoka’s aura stopped the needles, but the split second of distraction was enough for Illumi to stow her away in the bathroom and break the doorknob so she couldn’t get out without great effort. A hail of cards flew at the door just as Illumi was closing it. One caught Illumi’s cheek; he felt the blood drip sluggishly down his cheek. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Hisoka said breathlessly as he dodged Illumi’s blows. It was unnatural for a human to be as strong as he was, especially with so little training. Still, Illumi would win in the end. It was only a matter of drawing out the fight. “It’s a wonder you can fight in that.” As Illumi shoved him to the floor, Hisoka pulled on a strap of the harness Illumi was wearing. “This isn’t met for combat. Awfully forward of you.” 

Illumi stuck a pin in his other shoulder now that Hisoka was down and one in each of his thighs for good measure. “You are terrible. I am going to finish my job, and then I am going to kill you.”

Illumi followed his plan, for the most part. He brought the woman into the kitchen and made it look as though she slipped on some water on the floor and hit her head on the kitchen island. He cleaned up the apartment so that there was no evidence of a fight or anyone’s presence but the woman’s.

When it came time to kill Hisoka, he paused. 

“You promised you’d kill me,” Hisoka reminded him, looking awfully comfortable for someone whose limbs were completely paralyzed. “I thought you were a man of your word.” 

Illumi said nothing for a long minute, instead sitting on the floor beside Hisoka. His bare chest bore marks of the night before. Illumi was suddenly glad the woman was dead. “I thought you wanted to be turned.” 

“You’ll turn me,” Hisoka said confidently. “I just love seeing you conflicted. It’s like you’ve never experienced an emotion before.” 

He did not, in fact, experience emotions. At least not often and not in any significant capacity. Zoldycks were stone-cold killers and vampires were cold and merciless; Illumi was both. “I am a career assassin,” is what he finally decided on. “I said I would kill you because I was frustrated that you interfered with my professional life. I let my emotions get the best of me. I only kill by contract.” It was a flimsy excuse.

Hisoka hummed. “So if I contracted you to kill me?” 

“You won’t. You want to be turned,” Illumi pointed out. “Besides, it would cost more money than you have likely seen in your life.”

“Of course. How else would you afford your seemingly infinite supply of leather pants?” Hisoka sighed. “This is quite boring, Illu.” 

“You are always bored.” 

“Yes, but you’ve rendered me immobile. I wanted to fight you. Or fuck you.” 

Illumi realized that this was the first time in almost five years that he and Hisoka had been together for more than a minute or two without fighting or having sex. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“If I take out my needles, will you attack me?” Illumi asked. He would have no problem subduing him once again, but it would be inconvenient. 

Hisoka thought for a moment. “Hm. No. It’s nowhere near as fun if you aren’t going to try and kill me.” 

“I will free your legs and you will make yourself scarce. The effects of the pins on your arms should wear off in a few hours.” 

“Jesus, you’re boring. Fine.”

Illumi removed the pins from Hisoka’s thighs, ignoring his lewd expression and unsubtle erection. He pocketed the pins and stood up, idly kicking Hisoka in the ribs to see if he would move. He did not. “I am leaving now. I do not wish to see you again.” 

“Please remember the spikes on your boots before you kick me,” Hisoka muttered. “I’ll leave for today, but you aren’t getting rid of me so easily, Illumi.” Far too gracefully for someone who had just been paralyzed and didn’t have use of his arms, he stood up and kissed Illumi on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

* * *

“Are you alright, Illumi?” Silva asked. Since Illumi was located in Yorkshin, their more casual conversations were held over a video call. The Zoldyck patriarch looked far less intimidating over a computer screen. “Your mother and I are worried.” 

Illumi, dressed unusually modestly in a black turtleneck, nodded. “I am fine, Father. Have there been any issues with the jobs that I’ve completed?” He knew that the answer was no, but he could fathom no other reason that Silva would summon him so seriously. 

“No, of course not. Your performance is excellent as always.” He looked away for a moment before pinning Illumi with an uncomfortable stare. “Is there anything going on in your… personal life? You’ve been quiet lately.” This was almost a laughable question. Until recently, Illumi had almost nothing to speak of in his personal life. 

If Hisoka was affecting him so much that it was affecting how he behaved around his parents, though, then perhaps things were more dire than he realized. That very morning, he’d woken to Hisoka’s lips on his throat. (Hence the turtleneck.) Hisoka was still in his apartment, waiting to grill him about his meeting with his father. 

“I am not having any personal issues,” Illumi lied.

Silva looked pained. “Are you sure? We’ve always discouraged you from building relationships, but I know that it can get — lonely, I suppose, when you live the way we do.”

“I have our family,” Illumi pointed out. “I am not lonely.”

Illumi’s father sighed. “I often worry we made a mistake with you, Illumi.”

“I know. You have told me that I enjoy killing too much.” He cocked his head, letting his curtain of hair fall over half of his face. “Though I wonder why you would go into this sort of business if you didn’t enjoy it.” 

“No, that’s not what I mean, though that _is_ concerning.” He shook his head. He sounded lost in thought when he said, “You’re very blunt. I’ve always wondered where you got it from.” 

“You did not raise me to waste my words.” He had nowhere pressing to be, but he preferred to steer his father clear of Hisoka if he could. “If that is all, Father, I must leave. I have business to attend to.” 

“Of course.” Silva paused, conflicted. “If you need anything, Illumi, don’t be afraid to come to me, alright?”

“Yes, Father.” They hung up. The silence felt deafening.

Silva’s words stuck with Illumi as he watched the now-black screen. He didn’t think that he was lonely, but he wasn’t quite sure he knew what ‘lonely’ meant. Illumi was alone a lot of the time. He was an assassin; it was only natural. Still, there was Hisoka. They sometimes went weeks without seeing one another as Illumi went on jobs and Hisoka did whatever it was he did with the Troupe; Illumi preferred not to ask.

It was odd that a few weeks was a long time to stay apart; only a year ago, they would go months between visits, and before that, years. What was his relationship with Hisoka? He didn’t particularly like him, but he hadn’t slept with anyone else since he returned home from the mission in Azia. Hisoka was a nuisance, but Illumi couldn’t bring himself to kill him. 

He stripped out of his stuffy turtleneck and switched it for a looser shirt that he thought might be Hisoka’s. Clothing textures had always bothered him, and he preferred not to have his throat constricted. 

“How did it go?” Hisoka asked when Illumi returned to the living room. He was making coffee, having been woken by Illumi’s arrival. It was terribly domestic.

“He thinks I am having issues in my personal life,” Illumi explained. “It was odd.”

Hisoka smirked. “It’s nice to be appreciated.” 

“He told me that he thinks he made a mistake with me,” Illumi continued as if Hisoka hadn’t spoken.

“Obviously. You’re insane.” Hisoka ran a hand through his hair, which lacked its usual product and fell over his face. “I can see why you’re not heir.”

Illumi frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re an airhead.” He leapt over the kitchen island and stood in front of Illumi, tapping his temple. “There is nothing going on up here.” 

“Your dramatics are not appreciated,” Illumi muttered. He shoved Hisoka away and sat on one of the barstools by the counter. “I am perfectly fine.” 

“If you were fine, you would have killed me years ago,” Hisoka pointed out. “Or you wouldn’t be a murderer at all.”

“Assassin.”

“Pedantics. You like killing people.” 

“And you don’t?”

“I am not under any sort of pretense that it’s normal.” Hisoka put a mug of hot coffee into Illumi’s hands. “I am capable of self-awareness.” 

“I have a question,” Illumi said suddenly. He sipped his boiling hot coffee, hoping it would stave off some of the awkwardness he felt. “Are we in a relationship?”

“You think you dislike me even though you’re obsessed with me and I’m using you as a means to an end,” Hisoka replied. “That sounds like a relationship to me.”

“I hate you,” Illumi corrected. “You are the one obsessed with me. You’ve stalked me for nine years.” 

Hisoka set his own mug down and sat on the counter in front of where Illumi was seated. “Your obliviousness isn’t cute.” 

“Everything about me is cute,” Illumi corrected, only because he knew it would make Hisoka laugh. “You are very disrespectful.” 

Hisoka took Illumi’s coffee and drank from it. His human mouth wasn’t meant to withstand the still nearly-boiling heat, but he didn’t flinch. “I have a question for you, now, Illu.” 

“You are going to ask it whether or not I agree.” 

Hisoka swung his legs back and forth rather like a child. “When are you going to get over your ego and turn me?” 

“I will not,” Illumi said immediately. “Zoldycks don’t turn humans.”

“I’ll get old and die and then you’ll be all alone again. Is that what you want?” Hisoka cupped Illumi’s face in his hands. “You used to be so lonely.” 

Leaning into Hisoka’s touch, Illumi sighed. He had not thought about Hisoka dying before. It seemed like an impossibility; Hisoka, though human, certainly didn’t act like it. He walked the Earth with Godlike confidence. His air of invincibility was so convincing Illumi had fallen for it. The thought of Hisoka growing old and dying was an unpleasant one. 

“You are not an exception,” Illumi pointed out. Hisoka was… special, somehow, but Illumi would not betray his family for anything. It was out of the question. “I cannot turn you.” 

“What about Killua? He’ll soon be turned.” Hisoka tilted Illumi’s face toward him. “What does Killua have that I don’t?” 

“He is part of the family. He is my father’s son. You are a clown that has manipulated me so that I am wrapped around your little finger.” 

“Part of the family…?” Though it was rare that Hisoka _wasn’t_ smiling, his morbid grin seemed to grow three sizes. “Well, I can think of one way to get around that.” 

“Marriage.” 

“You wouldn’t be able to wear all black to the wedding, unfortunately, but I think we could make it work.” He tugged on Illumi’s hair, hard. “Let’s get married, Illu.” 

Illumi swatted his hand away and narrowed his eyes. “What on Earth makes you think I want to marry you?” 

Hisoka slipped off of the counter and sat on the barstool beside Illumi’s so he could press their foreheads together. “Who else would you marry? No one on Earth outside of your pathetic little family likes you but me.” 

“The same can be said for you, though you have no family to speak of.” Illumi grabbed Hisoka’s collar and pulled, hard enough to hurt. “I won’t be used for your personal gain because you can’t deal with the fact that you’re inferior.”

“Illumi, my love, be careful when you try to scare me off.” Hisoka wretched himself out of Illumi’s grip and stood up, just out of arm’s reach. “If I leave, you’ll have no-one left.” 

The strangest thing was that Illumi did not want to be alone again. He had spent nine years acclimating himself to Hisoka’s presence, and though nine years was a mere blink compared to the rest of his long, long life, it wasn’t a process he was willing to repeat with anyone else. Illumi faltered. Hisoka grinned. 

“Let’s get married,” Hisoka said, softer now.

“Okay,” Illumi acquiesced. “I will consider it. My family will have to agree, you know.” 

* * *

Illumi did not have very long to consider. Only a few short weeks later, he was visiting the manor when an unknown number called his cell phone during a chess game with his grandfather. Hisoka often called from random locations’ pay phones or stolen devices, so Illumi answered it without hesitation, apologizing to Zeno.

“Hello?”

A woman’s voice answered. She sounded vaguely familiar. “Is this Illumi?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, well, this is Machi.” She sounded contemptuous, so it was probably about Hisoka. “We’re out in Zaban City. Hisoka got captured and we can’t go after him. He said to call you if anything went wrong. Something about an engagement? Either way, he owes me now.”

Panic gripped Illumi’s chest. “Do you have any more details?” 

Machi listed off the coordinates he was last seen at and a vague description of his captors. Illumi thanked her before hanging up. 

“I have to go, Grandfather.” He stood up. “We can finish this game another day.”

“Hisoka,” Zeno said. His hearing was still sharp despite his old age. “The human of the Phantom Troupe. Engaged, hm?” 

The thought of his family finding out about Hisoka would normally terrify him, but Illumi could not find it in himself to care. “I will explain after I retrieve him.” 

“I see.” Unexpectedly, Zeno laughed. “You bring him back to the manor, alright? I’ll talk to Silva.” 

The airship to Zaban City was torturously long. He had flown commercially; a private airship would have taken too long to summon and would have required talking to his father. 

It was not hard to find the hideout where Hisoka was stowed away. The defences were pathetic; they were vampires, but clearly newborns. He killed everyone he came across almost without thinking. Illumi wondered why the Troupe wasn’t capable of such a simple rescue mission. 

Hisoka was unconscious and unusually pale. The room in which he was hidden was windowless and seemed to have no lights; Illumi could see in the dark, but not well. As he stepped closer to Hisoka, he heard a splash. 

Blood. 

“Hisoka?” His voice was breathless, even though he didn’t really need to breathe. “Hisoka, please—” 

He untied Hisoka from the chair and felt his pulse. Or, he tried; there was none. 

He was dead. 

The fact that someone other than Illumi had killed Hisoka was enough to set him off, but more than that, Hisoka had let it happen. He left Illumi alone.

There was a way to bring him back, though. He was still warm; his death was recent. Recent enough that if Illumi drank every last drop of blood from his body, he would reawaken. 

Perhaps Illumi had been dawdling too much and this was what a desperate Hisoka looked like.

Hisoka’s blood was sweet and warm, though Illumi couldn’t savour it considering the situation. It seemed to never end; Illumi had never been so full in his life. 

Finally, it was done.

It took a worrying few minutes for Hisoka to wake up. He was awfully pale, though he always had been, and there was a gaping wound on his throat. No blood leaked from it. His yellow eyes fluttered open. 

“Hello, Illu.”

“Hi,” Illumi whispered. He clutched Hisoka to his chest and didn’t speak for a long time. Hisoka would now be strong enough to shake him off, but he didn’t. Eventually, Illumi muttered, “We have to go.” 

“Oh? Not to the hospital, I’m sure, I’m all healed up.” Hisoka stood up and Illumi followed suit. “Home?”

Illumi shook his head. “The manor. My grandfather wants you to come.” 

“That’s sweet of him.” Hisoka ran his hand over his teeth, still flat and blunt. 

Understanding his silent question, Illumi explained, “Most of the changes are immediate, but your teeth will take a while. The human ones will fall out like baby teeth.” At Hisoka’s frown, Illumi added, “The new ones grow in within an hour or two. Don’t worry about your precious face.” 

Illumi called in a private airship to travel back to Padokea. They waited for the airship to arrive in a diner, though they didn’t get to order food because the waitstaff seemed too timid to approach. Perhaps Illumi should have found some new clothes for Hisoka, who was soaked in blood. Illumi wore black so no one would notice the stains. It seemed that Hisoka hadn’t caught the memo. 

The airship home was much calmer than the first trip. By now it was nighttime, and while Hisoka no longer required sleep to function, he had had a rather long day. He dozed off on Illumi’s shoulder, clutching Illumi’s shirt like it was a doll. 

Illumi was planning on letting him sleep for as long as he needed, but the landing of the airship awoke him. He stretched and grinned, marvelling at his newfound strength. “I’m happy this happened today, you know. My birthday is in a few days and I was dreading being thirty for eternity.” 

Illumi nodded. “I suppose it is lucky.” He paused. “We are still getting married. If we do not, you will be killed.” 

“Of course, Illu.” Hisoka wrapped his arm around Illumi’s waist. “I am a man of my word.” 

“That is false.”

“I’m being romantic, shut up.” 

“You are annoying.” 

“Illumi,” Silva said. “And Hisoka, I presume. It’s nice to meet you.” 

* * *

Despite the fact that it was nearing three in the morning, both of Illumi’s parents and his grandfather were awake, gathered in the formal sitting room. 

“The formal sitting room,” Zeno said. “I fear for the boy.” 

Hisoka was making himself presentable. Silva insisted that he and Illumi clean themselves up after their harrowing experience before they began the unfortunate discussion ahead. Illumi had been ready long ago, but Hisoka was rather high-maintenance. 

“I must say, I didn’t expect this from you, Illumi,” Silva said. “You said there was nothing going on in your personal life. Was that a lie?”

“I have known Hisoka for nine years. Nothing had changed in my personal life from the last time we spoke,” Illumi explained. It was a flimsy excuse.

“I suppose,” Silva said, though he looked doubtful. The door flew open, hard enough that the doorknob made a dent in the wall, and Hisoka stood in the open doorway blinking.

“He is not used to his strength yet,” Illumi explained. “Forgive him.”

Silva nodded. “Please sit, Hisoka. Illumi was much the same when he was younger. Now, can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” He looked at Illumi with a cold glint in his blue eyes. “I hope Father didn’t mishear when he mentioned your engagement.” 

Hisoka sat beside Illumi, much closer than the situation warranted, but Illumi didn’t address him. “I know, Father. I did not mean to turn him today, but he would have died otherwise. Originally, I had planned on asking your permission for us to marry, at which point I would have turned him.” 

“This is still a breach of the rules,” Silva pointed out. “He is not part of the family.” 

“He will be,” Illumi retorted. “I do not see the issue.” 

Kikyo scoffed. “This man isn’t fit to be a part of the family. He looks like a clown, Illumi.” 

“He will be a valuable member. He was a formidable fighter even while human. Chrollo Lucilfer trained him,” Illumi explained. 

“I didn’t like Kikyo at first,” Zeno pointed out. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like _I still don’t._ “Don’t be so hard on him, Silva.”

Kikyo crossed her arms and opened her mouth to speak, but Silva rounded on Zeno. “Kikyo can produce children. I assume the same cannot be said of Hisoka.” 

“Good thing Illu’s not the heir, then,” Hisoka piped up. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about that?” 

Silva glared. “There are still standards.”

Before Hisoka’s capture, Illumi had been ready to let Hisoka go if his parents ordered it. If he had still been human, they would have let him go in peace. Now, though, Hisoka’s life was in their hands, and Illumi felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble up in his chest. “You will not kill him, Father.” 

“And why not, Illumi?” Silva didn’t move, but his narrowed eyes made Illumi feel like he’d been struck.

“I will defend him. I do not want to fight you but I will.”

“Silva, can’t you see how this boy has _poisoned_ him, we can’t—”

“You would die for him,” Silva said, sounding genuinely confused. “That is unlike you.” 

“I don’t want to die, and not particularly for Hisoka, but I would prefer him alive and I assume I am more of use to you living than dead.” He gave his father an equally intense stare. “Fighting you will get me what I want, no matter how unpleasant it may be.” 

Unexpectedly, Silva laughed. “I used to doubt that you were my son, you know, you look so much like your mother. Not anymore.”

“So he will live?” Illumi pressed. 

“Yes, Illumi.” 

Illumi rarely smiled, but he found his lips curling. “Thank you, Father.”

* * *

“Chrollo is happy to have a Zoldyck in the Troupe,” Hisoka said one day. He was putting on his obscene makeup as Illumi navigated the confusing straps of the shirt he was trying to put on. “I wonder if that was his goal all along, training me.” 

Illumi frowned. “You did not have a sexual relationship with him?” He had always assumed, from the way Hisoka spoke of him. 

Hisoka burst into laughter. “I did at first, but not for very long. He’s quite boring.” 

“You still want to fight him, though,” Illumi pointed out.

“Yes, well, he’s strong. And his nen is interesting.” He rummaged through the drawers beneath the sink until he picked out a brush. It looked the same as all the other brushes to Illumi, but this one was apparently meant for his eyes. “You needn’t be jealous, Illu.” 

“I am not jealous,” Illumi snapped, though it was a lie. “Can you zip this up?” He pulled his hair over his shoulder so it wouldn’t get caught in the zipper. Hisoka zipped up his shirt and pressed a kiss to the back of Illumi’s neck.

“I don’t understand how you managed to get into these clothes before I got here to help you,” Hisoka said, pulling on Illumi’s shirt and letting it go so it snapped against his skin. “Are you a contortionist?”

“No, I am just not an idiot,” Illumi said.

“This is very domestic of us, you know. We’re getting ready together.” Hisoka looked in the mirror, patted his cheeks and turned to Illumi. “How do I look?”

“Ugly,” Illumi said. “We are married, Hisoka.” 

“You say the sweetest things.” 

“I think we should get a divorce.” 

“You have to be married for six months to get a divorce,” Hisoka pointed out. “It’s been three weeks.”

Illumi nodded. “You’re right, that is a problem. Perhaps I’ll just kill you.”

Hisoka grinned and looped his arms around Illumi’s neck. “You already have.” 

“I am starting to regret it.” 

“You’re never getting rid of me.”

Illumi sighed and dropped his head into Hisoka’s hair, a cotton-candy blue. “I suppose I will survive it.”

“You know, there’s a saying,” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “All men kill the thing they love. I think that means you love me.” 

“Oscar Wilde,” Illumi said. “I remember him.” 

Hisoka burst into laughter and didn’t stop. He laughed and laughed, so loudly that Illumi tried to leave, but Hisoka grabbed his arm. “Okay, I’ll stop.” He was grinning, tongue between his teeth. “You love me. You turned me because you wanted to spend the rest of eternity with me.”

“I never imagined that would be your strategy in manipulating me into turning you, but I suppose it worked.” He wretched his wrist out of Hisoka’s grip. “Come on, we are going to be late.” 

“I love you too, you know,” Hisoka said.

“I know.” 

“Okay.” 

“Idiot,” Illumi hissed. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t rush, Illu, we have forever to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr / twt @ carterchilcott


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